Jealousy
by Oakstar123
Summary: Franada- Francis, who is raising Matthew, reminisces about his long lost love, Joan of Arc. But... Is someone going to win Francis' heart back? - FRANCIS IS A PEDO, BASICALLY. :D


A blonde man sat in his reading chair, glasses resting on his nose securely and a book in his slender hands. He crossed his legs absent-mindedly, conscience sucked entirely within the book. It was written by another nation, only under a pseudonym; Toris Laurinaitis. The blonde man, Francis Bonnefoy, hadn't had much contact with the young man, but he found his writing to be marvelous.

A younger boy who looked similar to Francis played on the carpet before him. He had silky, blonde hair with glasses, and wore his pajamas, which was a long-sleeve white shirt that fell to his knees. His polar bear lay sleeping beside him. They never remembered each other's names despite spending so much time together. The blonde boy was named Matthew Williams, and the bear named Kumajiro.

Suddenly, Matthew looked up from his toys and up at Francis. "Papa?" He asked, crawling over to tug on his pant leg.

Francis put down his book and looked at Matthew. "Oui, mon cher? What is it?"

Matthew's luminously violet eyes were round in curiosity. "Are there any penguins in France?"

Francis looked at him for a moment before chuckling and picking up the young nation, putting him in his lap. "Non, there are no penguins in France. They need to be somewhere cold, oui? They live in the South Pole."

Snuggling deeper into his lap, Matthew curled up. "And where's that, Papa?"

"That's far, far down South at the bottom of the Earth. Make you freeze your nose off." He pinched his nose lightly, making Matthew giggle madly. "Why do you ask, Matthieu?"

"'Cause…" Matthew began, resting his head on his chest. "I like penguins. But polar bears are my favorite. Like Harujiro!" He chirped, giving the Frenchman a wide smile. Francis gave another laugh and began stroking Matthew's hair gently. "Don't you like Harujiro, Papa?" He asked, voice beginning to become sleepy.

"Oui, Matthieu. I like Harujiro." He smiled down at him, "Now, it's getting late. Off to bed you go, mister." He patted his back lightly in a gesture for him to get off.

Matthew shook his head and buried his face further into Francis' chest. "Non, Papa… I want to sleep with you tonight… Please…?"

Francis sighed softly. He didn't often let Matthew spend the night with him, since almost all of the time he had another person in bed with him, but the little Canadian nearly died of joy every time he was allowed to. "Alright, mon petit chou. You can."

"Yay~." He gave a yawn, then curled up tighter. Sleeping with Francis was the only time he could sleep without Kumajiro. Francis continued to stroke his hair gently. Within minutes, Matthew had passed out cold. Francis just sat there in silence, stroking his hair.

'_Mon petit chou…_' He thought, '_How lucky I am to have you… And here I thought I'd never find happiness again… Not after Joan…' _His eyes softened in hurt as he thought of Joan—the legendary French heroine. Or, as he more fondly preferred, the one and only love of his life. He lifted his head to look at the picture covered with a blanket. The picture was of Joan. '_Oh, Joan… Je suis desole… I… I let them kill you… Je suis desole… I tried…'_

On the day he learned of Joan's death, he swore he would never love again. And he didn't. Well, at least not for a long, long time. He constantly talked as if he knew everything there is to know about love, but he truly didn't. He feared love. He feared that if he loved again, he would lose that special someone all over again. He couldn't stand the thought of that. He merely couldn't.

But sometimes you can't help falling in love, right?

He looked back down to Matthew, who was sleeping soundly. '_Mon cher… You are the treasure of my life… All that I live for… I'm such an awful father, though… Even if I'm not even your real Papa… I just want the best for you, Matthieu. Even if you, too, leave me one day, I just want the very, very best for—'_

_ "_I love you, Papa…" Matthew mumbled softly in his sleep, interrupting his thoughts.

Francis' blue eyes went wide in shock, before softening slightly as he smiled. "I love you, too, Matthieu." He whispered gently, fingers lightly twirling his hair. Matthew didn't respond, so Francis drew back to his thoughts.

'_One day, you'll grow into a fine man… A caring, respectable gentleman. Whoever you fall in love with will be lucky to have you.'_

It was then that Francis felt an unexpected feeling in his heart. It was a twinge of jealousy for that future someone.

**[Translations for the People who Need It :D]**

Oui – Yes

Non – No

Mon cher – My dear

Mon petit chou – My little cabbage

Je suis desole – I am sorry

**[Author's Note]**

Yeah, yeah, I know it sucks. I like Franada, so this is like the root of it in my mind. e-e Francis, you pedo. Well, reviews are appreciated. :'D Adios, mi amigos~. (No hablas Español :'D).


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